Having to Think and Liking to Think
by TaintedMoonlight
Summary: It's all the thoughts in his head that make the day more tedious, but the thoughts concerning HER aren't so bad. He could live on the thoughts concerning her. He could live just sharing thoughts with her. Living isn't quite a chore with her...


_**Having to Think and Liking to Think**_

* * *

They yell at him constantly.

Berate him.

Scold him.

Sigh at him.

_Lazy,_ they say, _you're so lazy. Take some responsibility!_ What's he supposed to do? What do they think they could possibly know about…anything? His eyes sliding shut, he erases the images he can see before him, choosing the heavy veil of black that comes across his eyelids as they close. But even then, pictures settle across his vision. Sounds and smells.

He doesn't like to complain much. _Yes my life is terrible. I have an IQ over two hundred, a home, parents, and a job. You can't imagine how hard I have it. _It sounds stupid to his own ears. It sounds stupid to think that he should be allowed to feel as he does, when people suffer, when people have nothing, when people grow up in the worse situations. He doesn't mind most of the time; it's like second nature now, all the bothersome trivial facts just accumulate and he's okay with them. He's never really been able to stop thinking. Not a day, not a minute of his life.

Sometimes he sees too many numbers, too many words. Plans, and stories, and theories just jumble in his head. Things he can't really explain to Chouji, or Ino, or his mom, or his dad. Things he once tried to explain to Asuma. Asuma tried, he did, but he always got lost. It's just the ideas he usually has tend to be far too complex, or else plain gibberish that really make no relative sense. Things that would just cause a person to stare curiously and wonder on the sanity of his own person. Like the fact that he often pondered that the color green, may not be as green to other people as it is to him. Maybe to somebody else green is orange and they just know it as green, because, well they've been told that particular color IS green. Or like…he liked looking at the sky because when he was lucky the clouds twisted and contorted to form odd and creepy looking patterns and shapes that sort of made him feel like he was being transported to some other plane, like he was floating. He liked the way things were different from how they were.

He especially liked being proven wrong.

Sometimes, all he wanted to do, though, was stop the thinking. Stop the colors, the sounds, the textures; stop the oncoming images and ideas and theories. He wanted the thinking to cease. Because he wanted to feel the way other people felt. He thought they looked really happy and _were_ really happy, and – and they didn't have to listen to the incessant chattering in their head. They didn't have to conspire theories and ideas about everything and anything before processing. They didn't have to think, about what was okay to say to normal company. They didn't have to see things in the numerous and endless ways he did.

They didn't have to bear the responsibility of coming up with plans.

They didn't have to watch as the team looked at them, and waited, waited calmly for them to come up with a brilliant plan sure to make them win, or at least get out safely. They didn't have to bear that particular burden, they didn't have to wonder if maybe, just maybe it would be that day that the infamous IQ would fail, and they would be the cause of death.

He was lazy because he was scared.

He was lazy because he just wanted to rest his thoughts.

He was lazy because it was the only way he could live without going insane.

They could scold and berate him all they wanted to. In the end their words didn't' matter, because every drop slipping from their tongue he had long since berated himself for. He had long since processed it.

Maybe he _was_ wasting his life.

Maybe he could be doing better things.

But what the hell did it matter what THEY thought?

He'd already thought about it.

And there were only two opinions he really honestly cared for.

His own.

And the sleeping figure on his chest.

He liked looking at her.

He liked thinking about her.

He liked everything about her.

When he looked and talked her, he still couldn't stop thinking, if anything he would think so much that usually only stupidities and the word 'troublesome' slipped from his mouth.

He liked the way the sun hit her hair – at all hours of the day. The way when the sun rose, the blonde of her hair was an odd dull gold. Like it wasn't quite ready to shine just yet. When the sun was at its highest, it seemed like her hair was spun of _pure_ gold.

Like that fairy tale of the girl who spun gold from straw. He often believed that if such a feat were possible, only someone like her could truly accomplish it. Why her, he wasn't too sure.

He liked the way her hair looked best when it was against his chest. The way the spiky flares sort of flattened into him letting him know that despite its spiky appearance and harsh shine, it was actually quite soft and fragile. He liked hearing her breathe when she was sleeping. It sort of melded into the casual swish of the air, but was strangely different. He could always tell what she was dreaming of just by her breathing alone.

It was something happy this time.

Moaning softly the creature stirs and moves to look up at him.

The droplets of sleep still hang in her pretty green eyes blinking up at him drowsily. "Baka," she says softly, "you let me fall asleep."

"Insulting as always woman." He thinks he likes her when she's waking up. Her eyelids drooping and tone softer than usual.

She grumbles and drops her face back into his chest. "I should be working." She murmurs.

"Working is no fun."

"Just because YOU choose to be lazy."

"So can you."

"Meh." She sits up trying to shake all traces of sleep from her person.

"Stay." He says to her. Like he always does.

"Why?" She asks, like she always does.

He doesn't need to think. He's rehearsed the answer in his head time and time again. He knows the answer so well, he thinks of the reason why at sudden moments of the day at _least_ 5 times every day. She asks why all the time. But he's never answered her.

He's not sure he wants to.

His life isn't hard, he knows. It's pretty good, compared to others. Compared to hers. It's the constant thinking that sometimes bothers him. But he doesn't…He doesn't mind thinking so much when he's thinking with her…Or _about_ her.

"Well I have to go to work." She smirks. "Do what others won't."

"Temari…"

She turns, shock spilled clearly and plainly on her face. He likes that look the most he thinks. Her mouth parted open slightly, brows furrowed, but a smile in her eyes. It's very nice. He's never said her name, or at least, he doesn't think he ever had. He's always called her 'troublesome woman' or 'fan girl'. He liked her name on his lips. Likes the feel, and he thinks he would like to say it more often. When he's closer to her, when she's sleeping on his chest, when she's lying beside him on the bed looking up at nothing, telling him what she's thinking of; yes, he would like to say it a lot more often.

"Yeah?"

He doesn't know what to say because when it comes down to it, he wants to say everything. He would like to know if maybe she has someone else in Suna. If he's just someone, she likes to be with on occasion. He would like to know if…if he decided to ask her to marry him right then, would she accept? He would like to know if he irritates more than he pleases her with his random bits of thoughts. He would like to know if she thinks he's worth anything. She's the only one he's ever really explained his meaningless thoughts and rambles. The only one he's ever really theorized with. The only one who really seems to understand, and if she doesn't understand, doesn't go off pretending she does.

_I like…the way the grass looks. _She had said to him once, offhandedly. _You know, it's just…like they're different shades of green…but they look the same and then not at all. And they're like…pokey and solitary but not really. _She had blushed then._ I know that sound stupid, and you're probably thinking I need to be incarcerated or something, but…_ He found it interesting that she had told him that. That she had mentioned something she thought shouldn't really be said, and then he started talking. Saying things _he_ thought and she continued with things _she_ thought. And somehow Shikamaru got the vague feeling that the conversation they were having wasn't very much normal and would scare just about anyone else, but she wasn't scared and he wasn't scared and…it felt nice.

"Shikamaru? Hello? Anyone home?"

"Why? Why bother with me?"

_Don't I irritate you?_

_Don't you want to yell at me?_

_Don't you think I'm insane too?_

"Shikamaru, stop thinking so much."

"I can't." He says honestly. "I can't stop thinking. Never have. There's too much not to think about that it just—"

She sits back down next to him. "Doesn't it ever…become too much? Don't you ever just want to relax?" She inclines her head and continues quickly, breathily. "And I know that sounds like stupid thing to say to you because you're always looking at the clouds or sleeping, but I don't think you ever really take the chance to just, stop thinking about things that could be, should be, and would be, and just talk to someone like nothing else matters. Just say the first thing on your tongue without thinking it over. Just talk to someone and trust that no matter what you say it…won't matter to that person?" She says it quickly and hurriedly and finishes with a blush.

"I do…Most of the time…when I'm talking to…you, I do. I mean, I still think, but not as much, and not as strong, and…I don't really mind thinking…with you…" He thinks it sounds stupid, because he's never really said things like that, but…he trusts her.

She blushed furiously. "And I like…being with you. It's…different. But you know, in a very good way. I'm not saying that it's – I like being able to say things and know that even if they're stupid and don't make sense you don't mind hearing them. And I like talking to someone who thinks about more than kunais or – or other stupid mundane things. I get so bored in Suna which is really weird because I never used to get bored before. I used to write, and I was okay with that, but now I'm starting to miss talking when I'm there and writing doesn't quite work like it did. And I'm talking way too fast aren't I?"

"There've been times when you've talked faster."

"Oh good." She's silent for a moment, before she speaks again. "I should get going."

"You should stay." He doesn't really like Konoha without her.

She's quiet. "You should come."

It's never occurred to him. And this realization hits him squarely and frighteningly. There's an idea that's never occurred to him. That's never entered his mind.

And it's the perfect one.

He likes being with her.

And even though she likes being with him, she can't – she couldn't ever – leave her brothers; not after 'not being there for them' when they were young.

"What?" She asks.

"That idea never occurred to me."

She smirks. "The almighty genius forgot such an OBVIOUS possibility?"

He scowls. "Shut up."

"Make me."

He kisses her.

She kisses him back.

"You should make me shut up more often." She murmurs.

"Then you should stop being interesting."

He likes her.

He really likes her.

He might say he loves her, but of course, he's not sure what 'love' really means and doesn't want to brand her with a sentiment that wouldn't work. He likes being with her. He would like to be with her always. He likes that she knows who he is and wants her to know everything. He's scared that she's not really his. He's scared that he might not get as much time with her as he wants. He's scared that the moment he's looking at her, hair shining, breathing even, green eyes teasing, lips taunting, might be the very last.

She calls him lazy too.

And she's scolded him just as much as everyone else.

But there's a difference.

She knows the method to his demeanor.

She knows the reason behind his 'apathy'

She knows the clarity behind his eyes.

She knows that he IS lazy, and it's bad, but she also knows that it's also very good. She doesn't tell him to become everything he _could_ be capable of. She doesn't tell him to get rid of his laziness and just work hard. She just tells him to work a little harder. To care _a little_ more. To use what he has to help those he can. Even just a bit.

It's different.

Maybe it's her tone.

Or her expression.

Or her posture.

He can't really explain it, but it's all very different when it comes to her. He feels…better. Like…he's important.

He doesn't think he'll ever stop thinking, and processing and creating. And wishing sometimes that he were more normal. But…looking at her…at this creature who's…everything and nothing at the same time…he thinks he wouldn't mind so much if she would share it all with him.


End file.
